Rapture
by InkWorthy
Summary: "What do you want, Kirsty?" Alternate scene to Chapter 9 in The Pin and the Casket. Do not read if under 18. Unbound Pinhead/Kirsty.
1. Chapter 1

_... This is smut. This is self-indulgent smut and absolutely nothing else. This story is not canon to the Pin and the Casket, but it's set in that universe because I have had an Unbound!Pinhead/Kirsty itch that desperately needs scratching._

 _Be kind, stay spooky, don't read this if you're under 18._

 _-Inky_

* * *

"Walk with me," he'd said, and now Kirsty was holding his arm and following the Prince through a maze of crates and scrapped parts. The hem of his cassock dusted against concrete, and it mingled with her own clicking footsteps as the only real sounds filling the museum basement, save the clanking of metal against metal at his waist.

He hadn't spoken yet. Neither of them had, despite the swirling storm of questions that kept Kirsty from being able to to form a coherent thought. He was alive - how? Why? And how did he find her?

"A pleasant coincidence, Kirsty," came the answer, and oh she did _not_ like when he read her mind, "nothing more. I promise I would never pursue you without your permission." The Prince turned to look at her, and was met with her disbelieving stare. "Yes?"

"Without my permission? How many times has the box found me again?" That actually got a sigh out of him, and it did surprise her that he sounded a touch remorseful.

"I do not control the Lament Configuration," he said, now looking ahead instead of at her. They had almost circled back to where they'd started, and she could see the mirrors along with the large wooden crate ahead. "It seeks its due - you opened the box once, Kirsty, opened the door. It does not appreciate your refusal to go through it." She prepared a retort, but he continued. "I would like for you to join us - I want for you to make that choice. But it is not so valuable without _your_ choice."

"What do you want from me?" It was out before she could really decide if asking was a good idea. "Right now. Why are we just... walking?"

"Because your company is something I enjoy." He smiled at her, almost that playful smile she remembered when the Lament Configuration had shifted into its sleeker form in her hands so long ago, but it still felt a little pale in comparison. "You fascinate me, Kirsty. You always have."

"Thank you," she said, after a few seconds of searching for another response and finding there was none, "I think." They stopped at the crate she'd slept on before, and she sat on its edge as he released her arm.

"And what about you?" He was looking at her again, relaxed, bemused. "What do you want, Kirsty, that keeps you walking with me?"

She wasn't ready for that one. "I..." she started, and he took a step closer to her. An unbidden thought flickered behind her eyes - how soft his lips looked in the dim blue light. The Prince leaned close, surprisingly close. "I..."

"Yes, Kirsty?" he asked.

He was teasing her. She could see it in his eyes - those dark eyes that were no longer empty, now dancing with mirthful light as he leaned just a breath away from her lips. If he just had...

 _If he had a shirt I would grab it,_ she thought. But he didn't have a shirt - all he had were his leathers, and the small gaps in them on his chest that she could sink her fingers under in an instant. So she did - Kirsty gripped what she could and yanked forward so his lips crashed into hers. She closed her eyes, but in the same instant he let out a guttural groan against her mouth. She let go a second before realizing why, and looking down at the red on her hands confirmed that she had tugged on his open wounds, and she had tugged on them hard.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, barely able to look at him, afraid to see his face. "I didn't mean to hurt-"

Kirsty felt a cold hand on her jaw and her face was tilted up, her eyes meeting with his. His expression had shifted - his jaw was locked in concentration, but his eyes burned with hunger she didn't recognize. He didn't smile, but he wasn't squeezing her jaw. Kirsty started to apologize again when he pulled her into another kiss, his arm nearly clamping him against her.

 _"Again,"_ the Prince whispered against her lips, and her arms found freedom from the hold on her waist at the moment she understood what he meant. She brushed her fingers over the leather, slowly at first, searching. She found what she was looking for, felt the wet warmth at her touch. She was technically still kissing him, and her heart was close to bursting in her ears, but curiosity and an eagerness that she should have been ashamed of pushed her forward. Kirsty sank her fingernails into his chest, and the Prince groaned again, holding her tighter and kissing her like she'd never been kissed before.

And she _had_ never been kissed like this before. Kirsty opened her mouth for him, an invitation he gladly accepted; she let him push forward against her, leaning into her touch even as it tilted her backwards. His arm moved from her waist to her side, the gentle guidance onto her back stark against the hunger in his kiss. And then he broke that kiss, and they stared at each other as Kirsty realized just how tall he was over her, and just how close she'd let him get for him to be standing between her knees.

"Kirsty," the Prince breathed, and she was a little smug that he sounded a bit breathless like she was, "I can't."

Despite herself, despite everything, she felt a pang of disappointment in her chest. "What?"

"Permission," he said, collecting himself just enough between sentences to get them out. "I can't do anything - _anything -_ without your permission." That hunger in his gaze was bestial, and she felt a thrill up her spine. "Tell me what you want, Kirsty, right now. It's yours."

Kirsty's mind reeled. A thousand images flashed through her mind; a thousand nightmares of being caught in the Labyrinth, tangling with agonizing, exquisite dreams. She tried to focus within them, to find her footing in the rush of anticipation that flooded her. She vaguely remembered the mirror, mere feet away, watching them now. She looked at him, standing over her, waiting for her answer. Kirsty thought for a moment more, then swallowed the last of her misgivings.

She sat up again - for a second she saw a glint of disappointment in his expression, but it changed when her scarf and jacket fell to the floor.

"Kiss me again," she said, surprised at the certainty in her voice. She _wanted_ this, she really did, her usual repulsion discarded with her clothes. He leaned forward and claimed her lips again. She returned the kiss and somehow matched his hunger with her own, even as she tried to unbutton her blouse without fumbling. It fell behind her, forgotten, as she reached up to hold his neck and pull him just a little closer. One of her hands let go to take his, and Kirsty gasped a little as she pressed his cold palm to her side. The other hand joined in, slowly gliding upwards, moving to slip under her bra.

"Stop." He did - something about that sent her pulse racing. He really was going to follow anything she asked. "Not yet. Just... touch me." His fingers curled in, and they slowly moved back down before sliding around her, exploring her back, her hips, her neck.

He finally pulled his face away from hers. A few curls fell away from his pins, and when he opened his eyes Kirsty felt naked for the way he seemed to drink her in. She watched his gaze drop from hers to her lips, to her jaw, to her neck. He eyed her throat with a singular attention, and she tilted her head back.

"Kiss it."

His pins scraped at her skin; they left angry red marks as his lips pressed to her throat, his tongue brushing up against the patch closest to her pulse. His lips were cold, but his breath was warm; the contrast made her shudder and lean into his mouth even more, and the Prince obliged her silent request. He kissed another spot on her neck, then another, working his way down until a faint row of pink blotches and red lines was formed down to her collarbone. He nipped lightly at her skin and sucked on it ( _"please"_ she'd all but whispered as he did), and when the Prince let her go the red trail was punctuated by the faint formation of a red and purple mark.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes and fingers gently trailing over his handiwork. Kirsty swallowed under his touch. "You are an exquisite canvas, Kirsty. What next?"

It took her a second to respond. Part of it was just catching her breath, the other was a thousand ideas tumbling in front of each other, absolutely none of them being to stop it here. Who would she have been fooling? Certainly not herself.

"I think..." she managed, looking up at him, "I want to take this off now." She pushed off one of her bra straps, letting it fall to her bruised and scratched shoulder. "And these." She pushed down slightly on her jeans, starting to work her hips out of them. "Help me?"

 _Help me_ seemed to have some effect on him, because his eyes lit up at them and immediately his fingers were unlatching her bra. It fell with her jacket as the Prince urged her onto her back, and her jeans soon joined them, along with her shoes. He was already going for her underwear next, but that little thrill came back to her just before she spoke.

"Stop," she said, and he froze. "Not yet." He obeyed, hands retreating from the thin piece of black cotton. She felt _powerful -_ there was something indescribable in that little moment of power, of being able to say _stop_ and her word being law. No arguing, no protests. She said stop, and he stopped.

The Prince looked at her with a patient expression, betrayed by the way his eyes swept over her body. He wanted her, she could feel it in the way his hands hovered over her skin. But he wouldn't do anything without her say so. It was _exhilarating._ Kirsty beckoned for him to lean forward, and he did, letting her take his hands and place them on her sides, back to the path they'd followed before.

"Slowly," she murmured, "I want to enjoy this." She kissed him again, and his hands obeyed her command. They kneaded her chest, cold thumbs gliding over her nipples and leaving them pert under his touch. He stepped closer, pushing between her knees. She let him. He pressed up to her, leather and skin against skin. He let go of one breast to hold her hip, pull it closer to him. Kirsty opened her mouth; he moved to fill it, breath cold but his kiss blissfully warm. Her knee slid up his side.

Kirsty was lost to this, too focused on how their skin intermingled to even realize just when the kiss had stopped. All she knew was that now he was looking at her again, he was pressed right up to the damp fabric between her legs, and she felt something hard and familiar beneath his leather. Her hand moved down; from his shoulder to his hand on her breast, to her side, to between her legs. She pushed the fabric aside, and the cold air on her wet skin made her shudder. He did nothing but watch, then looked back up to her eyes.

"Tell me what you want, Kirsty." She knew the answer he was asking for, and it was the one she had chosen anyway.

"You."

The next moments went by in a blur; it was as if she'd released him, undone whatever had held him back before. She was pushed onto her back and cushioned by her shirt, and he was kneeling between her legs with his eyes closed. He pressed a kiss to her wet folds, and Kirsty gasped at his tongue on her clit, but it was over in an instant as he rose back up. She was staring at the ceiling, trying to steady the stars in her eyes when he grabbed her hips and slid into her. Kirsty moaned and closed her eyes, surrendering herself to what came next.

He was overwhelming; his cold touch both on her and in her mingled with delicious friction as the Prince moved. Kirsty could barely hear him over her own writhing and moaning, her legs wrapping around his waist. In the midst of her gasps and moans of _please, please don't stop,_ she could have sworn she heard her name. She did not hear his answers to her pleas, did not hear the confession he made as he drew close, as he made it just as she arched back and cried from her first climax. He didn't stop; the Prince kissed her again hungrily, then again, then again.

She kissed him as he finally fell over the edge of his pleasure, and she followed him, letting out one more gasp before she let herself fall back on the crate.

The world came back slowly as the afterglow ebbed away, but Kirsty found herself still clinging to his back as the prince stood before her, catching his breath. For a second they just stared at each other; she imagined, however briefly, that he might pull away and move on. Instead he lifted her by her sides and brought her up, and she felt his pins against her face as he tilted his head forward. It was the closest he'd ever get to resting his forehead against hers. Kirsty curled her arms around him, squeezing his shoulders, listening to him breathe.

And they held each other, two lovers in the dark.

* * *

 _I promise Chapter 10 is coming soon, I just had to get this one out of my system because it would not go away. I hope you enjoyed - I may add a part 2 to this, so stay tuned!_


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting at a red light, trying not to panic, Kirsty took in a slow breath of air and let it out. Her face was burning red and her knuckles were ghost-white as she gripped the steering wheel.

That hadn't... she hadn't _planned_ that. She couldn't lie to herself and say she hadn't _intended_ to - in the moment it had been her only intention, the only thing she'd wanted at that second, and if it weren't for what she knew now she'd have no regret about it.

But _dear heavens_ , what she knew now. Kirsty let out the breath she was holding and hit the gas at the light changing, trying to be calm, trying to relax. She needed to relax and have a clear mind.

That hadn't been the whole... him. His other half, the captain she'd uncovered in black and white in a hospital... he wasn't there affecting his thoughts, his actions. _Would that have happened if he was his full self?_ She wondered, remembering that _she_ was the one who'd made the first move, that _she'd_ kissed _him_ before anything else. And yes, if he'd been his full self and they'd had the same conversation, she'd have done it again.

But would he have _accepted_ it? Would he have wanted her? She knew he wanted her soul, because he'd proven it time and again. But her attention, her touch?

His hands were cold, colder than she'd expected, but thinking of the way they'd felt on-

 _You are driving! Focus!_ She pulled herself out of it, and after a moment pulled over entirely, stopping in the nearest parking lot and leaving the car running as she sat back in her seat. Her heart was flip-flopping in her chest between what she had to do and what she had already done.

She would have to trick him. She knew that. If she wanted to save him, she'd have to lie, and that sat restlessly inside her. If it were anyone else, _anyone_ at all, maybe she could have pretended that it was just sex. Maybe she could have believed it.

But it _wasn't_ just sex, was it? Not with that kiss, not with how he'd touched her, obeyed her every word. It hadn't been a long interaction - in fact it had been surprisingly quick for so much to have happened - but the way he'd worked her body had been something she wouldn't forget.

Kirsty stared at the ceiling and swallowed. It hadn't just been sex. She wasn't sure how he felt about it - though the way he looked at her came closer to her heart than any other part of her - but that, what she'd done? It was lovemaking. She had made love to him, let him see her vulnerable and told him _exactly_ how to wrap her around his fingers. Kirsty buried her face in her hands and groaned, feeling herself blushing again despite the urgent pounding in her chest. She needed to get the pin, needed to get him back to normal.

But what would he do when that happened? Her stomach twisted a little at the thought that he might not want her again - that it was a one-time thing, a lapse into humanity he wouldn't repeat.

 _But that wasn't the human half of him,_ she thought, and shook the idea from her head as she backed out of the lot again. She needed to focus on the pin, or she'd never know the answer anyway.

* * *

 _Wasted._

That was the word that described the chance that haunted him. _Wasted._ The unbound Prince stared down at his hands, thinking about where they had been, what they had done, what they _could_ have done.

Perhaps the vocabulary had changed. He knew that his brief connection, that flicker of intimacy, was what humans would have called a "quickie" or some other crude colloquialism. He hated the word, but perhaps he deserved to live with it with the circumstances and his decisions. It did not matter that he had been driven by passion, by the need to have her after so much waiting, by the overwhelming desire to satisfy the hunger he'd sensed in her. It did not matter that she had enjoyed it. It did not matter that _he_ had enjoyed it.

Kirsty had been in his arms and he had wasted the opportunity to give her all that she deserved.

She was gone now - gone to retrieve the pin, his missing pin, his key to restoration and the power to truly shape the Age in his image. The Prince had asked her to come with him, and she had at the very least said she would consider it. Now she was gone, leaving him in the dark to consider himself, and all he could do was think about his hands and her skin.

How long had he thought of her? How much had he contemplated her flesh, her soul, how he would show her his power to fulfill the needs of both? She had been the one to ask what she needed of him; and while he did enjoy that little bit of surrender to her more than he'd expected, he should have been doing all she asked before it reached her lips.

In his mind's eye the Prince could see his chambers, rooms of study, of prayer, of observance. He saw the one room he saved for indulgence - it changed with his whims, but now he imagined sheets of black and blankets askew, her lying at the center of it all as he dedicated himself to exploring and discovering Kirsty and the little secrets of her body.

Closing his eyes, he immersed himself in visions of tormenting her. The Prince imagined slowly unravelling Kirsty with his hands, working her up with need until she was close to tears. She would not cry - good suffering came in so many forms, and they were a waste with all of them. He would slowly bring her to the edge of her pleasure, bring her so close to the brink that she begged to be pushed over, and then ceasing all at once to see her face when she came crashing down. Then he'd do it all over again, over and over, until she could take no more. He imagined finally letting her feel her release, then stretching it out and coaxing another climax from her right after, then another, turning it into a different sort of torment. Pain had so many forms, so many ways to intermingle with pleasure, and he wanted to show her all of what sensation had to offer.

And he hadn't _done_ that. He cursed himself for the missed opportunity, for spending such an intimate moment on temporary pleasure that barely scratched the surface of what he could give her, for being in such a rush, for wasting such a precious confession on such a temporary moment.

"I love you." He said the words out loud again - strange though they were in his mouth, they soothed something in his soul, some tiny fragment of him that didn't feel quite whole. He loved her. She deserved to know it - not just that he wanted her, craved her, admired her. He didn't just want to make her his Princess for the sake of having her.

He wanted to give her everything this world owed her and more. He wanted her nightmares to tremble at his hand on her shoulder as she slept. He wanted to reach into her heart and pluck away the glass shards that had been left behind by her treacherous family, piece by miserable piece, until she could finally start to heal. He wanted to make her smile - just a little smile at something he'd said, just a fleeting bit of happiness in a life he knew had jealously guarded the emotion from her.

He would give her all of that and more, he decided as he prepared to wait for her. He would show her just what he'd meant when he'd said he'd wanted to thank her - just how much she meant.

And he would _not_ waste his next opportunity.

* * *

 _Published the wrong draft first, sorry!_


	3. Chapter 3

Kirsty was sitting at a red light, in a hurry, stomach turning. She stared at the box in her lap - sitting, waiting. She knew what she had to do, and that didn't help. She had Elliot right there, and that... that made it worse.

"I don't think I can do this." She hadn't meant to say it out loud, and the light turned green. She started driving.

"Kirsty, we have no choice." The Captain's voice was stern, but gentle, laced with concern that she appreciated even as it worsened her guilt. She glanced at the radio, imagining the face of a war-torn man who didn't entirely deserve what had happened to him. "I know it is frightening, but I also know you are capable. He won't hurt you."

"He's not what I'm afraid of." She turned, and her shoulders slumped. "Not like that. I'm..." _I'm terrified of what comes next,_ she thought. "I'd be betraying him."

"As opposed to doing as he asks?" She couldn't look at the radio again. Her grip on the wheel tightened. "Kirsty, he is not his entire self. His ambitions are unchecked, and he won't find a way to quell his appetites even if he does regain his power. That is what having an incomplete soul does - he will only seek to take and take in an effort to be full, when he doesn't even know what it is he's filling." She wanted to close her eyes, but not on the open road, not when she had to focus.

"We're helping him," she said, and heard a small vocalization of approval. Or maybe it was radio static.

"We are." Elliot said, and Kirsty nodded. She still let out a sigh. "Kirsty, he will know why you did it. He will understand."

"And what if he doesn't?" This was the spot - she pulled into a lot and parked, letting the car run as she sat back and finally closed her eyes. She thought about him - the figure lying dead in that cold corridor, but also those dark eyes that had stared at her with such intensity that had been sparked by just a touch, just a kiss. "What if this is going too far? After everything he - you - after all that's happened..." her shoulder slumped. Kirsty felt her voice crack. "I don't want you - the _whole_ you - hurt because of me again."

"Kirsty." His voice was comforting and she didn't deserve it. Not here, not right now. "We will _both_ suffer if you do not act quickly. Do not worry about me."

"I can't not worry." She finally opened her eyes. "Listen, when I was down there..." she swallowed. "I didn't... I didn't know you - he - I didn't know what had happened. I thought he was like he was before he died."

"I know, Kirsty, that's not your fault. You couldn't have known."

"No, I mean I _really_ acted- I..." she buried her face in her hands. _"Christ,_ how do I explain this to them..."

"Explaining comes later. We don't have a lot of time." She finally drew in a breath, focusing on his face. The face she remembered - cruel and kind and terrible and strangely beautiful.

 _I love you,_ she thought to herself, to him. She had shown him that once already - at least she hoped she did.

He deserved to know as his whole self.

* * *

The last thing he wanted to think about was Angelique.

There was an efficiency to his bound self that the Prince reluctantly wished for; it was easy to compartmentalize and focus, to order his thoughts and focus on what needed to be done. But waiting for the key to his salvation and the key's bearer, he found that two concerns clamored for his attention with no regard for which had more importance or urgency. The former Princess no doubt wanted to reclaim her power; even as means to an end and without understanding of the new Order, she was a danger to his own intentions. The possibility of Angelique's interference fought for dominance with the worry - no, the concept - no, the _worry_ that Kirsty might say no.

He could still feel her skin under his fingertips. They ached for her. Everything in him ached, but it seemed her presence soothed it in a way that confused him. He'd never met a pain he didn't get along with, not until now. The wasn't just pain; it was a hunger, an insatiable need that their brief encounter had only exacerbated. There was a part of the Prince's mind that had dedicated itself to recounting and revising the experience, planning for the hope of a _next time._

But then he heard the sound of a car, some distance away, coming to a stop. Door open, door shut. The Prince could feel the change in the air.

She was here, and so was the pin. She had kept her promise.

The Prince allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

* * *

 _I guess I'm making a part 4. But hey, first post of 2019!_


	4. Chapter 4

The walk to him felt like miles. Kirsty could hear every click of her shoes against the pavement, and as she approached she could see his face more clearly, the way he looked at her with patient fondness. A lump of guilt welled up in her throat; she swallowed it and gripped the box tighter. She knew he could see it.

"Kirsty," he said as she reached him, "welcome back." His hand reached to take her empty one, and before she could react he'd brought the back of it to his lips, cold and lined with metal that scraped her knuckles. His eyes never closed, shallow pools of black intent on watching her. She felt herself flush, which was ridiculous considering that what had transpired maybe an hour ago was much more worthy of her embarrassment.

"Are you ashamed of it?" He was in her _head_ again. Kirsty took in a breath, the question hanging between them.

"No," she finally said, "I'm not." There was the slightest glimmer in those empty black eyes, even if his face otherwise showed no change.

"That is good to hear." He stepped closer, barely a hand's breadth from where she stood. "Though I must admit to having held back; had we the time, I could have offered your pick of the Labyrinth's pleasures." She knew what that meant, but he was looking at her with such softness...

"I..." she swallowed, and pulled her hand away from his. That spark vanished, but he watched her even as she took a step back.

"You know what my offer is. I stand by it." She couldn't look him in the eye. "The Labyrinth has waited so long for you. _I_ have waited. To give you what this world never can." Her hand fell into her pocket, and she squeezed. "Kirsty."

"I can't."

"You can."

"No, I mean-" her voice cracked, and all at once her eyes were burning. She let the coffin fall to the ground and pulled the real pin from her pocket for him to see. "I can't - you're not - I wanted to help you." She _was_ about to cry, she _was_ ashamed, even as she felt Elliot's disappointment in her fingertips. He - the Cenobite - stared at the pin, and she knew he knew. "I wanted to give the missing part of you back, but I can't... I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry." He stared at her, and for a terrible second he didn't speak.

Then his eyes widened. "Kirsty!" he said, too late, and she felt a hand on her neck before she was flung onto her side, crashing into asphalt. The world swam.

* * *

It all happened quickly; the struggle with Angelique was humiliatingly brief even with his chains, and the pain from her claws was almost insulting, as she had barely scratched him. The Prince only took a moment to breathe as Angelique disappeared behind him, Joey in tow, before he turned to where Kirsty lay.

Her eyes were open; as he knelt down next to her she looked up at him, tears streaming down her burning cheeks and the pin an inch from her hand, lying on the ground.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, and he reached forward to brush a curl from her face. She wasn't concussed, not from the glimpse he took into her thoughts; instead he saw the plot in the car, the intent to trick him, the way Kirsty looked at him now.

"You intended to trick me," he said, and Kirsty closed her eyes, turning her head further towards the ground. "To return my human half to me without my knowledge." She nodded, and even as the feeling of betrayal cut through him like a knife, he couldn't bring himself to be angry. "Why?" He asked, and if it was to her or himself, he didn't know.

"It's my fault," she whispered, her empty hand reaching up to touch his. "It's my fault this happened to you... I thought..."

 _I thought I could save you_ was what she couldn't bring herself to say, _like you saved me._ Guilt and pain and something else he couldn't place were flooding her thoughts; he looked to the pin on the ground. The Prince leaned forward and picked it up, looking back at Kirsty.

"Without this," he said, "there is no chance of defeating Angelique. I am without Leviathan's true power or guidance. ... But perhaps you knew that." He spun it between his fingers, feeling the other half of his soul against his skin. The part that had held him back, he'd thought, but he looked to Kirsty again. She was staring at him, having pushed herself off the ground, waiting. Afraid.

She was _afraid_ for him. Or _of_ him.

It would have been so easy to force the human part of him out; to take Leviathan's blessing back and reclaim the Labyrinth without restraint, without the confining grip of discipline. It would be so easy to crush Angelique's pride and tear her apart over and over, to rebuild the Labyrinth in his image. But what _was_ his image?

Aside from doing as he'd done before, and having Kirsty by his side, he didn't have an answer. It would be so easy, he thought, to end this now.

The Cenobite Prince reached for Kirsty, and she flinched as his fingers brushed her cheek. That something from before kept her heart racing even as the last tears stained her cheeks; he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and she let out a shaky breath.

"Kirsty," he murmured, "do you love me?" She took in a breath, but he had his answer as soon as she processed the question. Possibly before then. He pulled away and looked at her.

"Yes? No? I..." she started. He let go of her face.

"I understand." He closed his eyes, remembering his vows for the first time since he'd been torn from himself. It would be a long time before he was free to say the word again. "Know that I do, Kirsty. With my entire being."

The pin knew its mark, and his thoughts were swallowed in fog and thunder.

* * *

 _... I swear I'll be done at part 5. This got away from me again._


	5. Chapter 5

Kirsty held him.

Lightning crackled across his skin; he was stronger than she'd thought, and the force of his fraught writhing and spasms rocked her. It hurt, but maybe she deserved it a little for doing this to him - for all of it.

Elliot's screams became the Cenobite's and then both, twisting and melding together, and the electricity threatened to tear her apart. She did not let go, biting back her own agony. Finally the storm receded; he went lax in her arms, his body heavy, his face serene. Kirsty stared at him, and a shaking hand let go of his waist to touch his cheek. It wasn't cold - not warm as her own, but the ice had melted under his skin. She swallowed - and let out a sob.

"I'm sorry," Kirsty whispered, "I'm sorry this happened. I'm so sorry. You trusted me... you _saved_ me, and I just got you hurt again." No response; the slow rise and fall of his chest was the only thing keeping her from desperation. "I'm sorry."

Her finger traced down his cheek, following the gridded line to his chin. Delicately she cradled the Cenobite's jaw.

"I do know the answer." She swallowed. "I love you. All of you. I'm sorry I couldn't say it when you could hear me." Did his breath stop? She waited, but it went back to its previous pace after a second, steady, almost silent. "I love you. Not just Elliot. Not just the part of you that loves me. _You."_

It was not elegant. She was fighting sobs as she spoke; the words clawed at her throat, desperate to escape before her sense or her fear closed them off again.

"Please be okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He was so heavy on her knees, and the flat of a blade was pressing against her thigh under his back. She didn't care. If it sliced into her she didn't care, so long as he woke up. Kirsty leaned forward, her forehead brushing against the restored pin, and sighed. "I wish I could have done something different."

"That... is a waste." Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up in time for the lead Cenobite to push himself off of the ground. He remained on his knees, his back to her, movement slow. He seemed too heavy for himself. "What has passed has passed. We can only focus on what comes next." Kirsty's breath was almost a laugh, and she forced herself to her feet.

"We need to act quickly, then," she said, taking a moment before walking in front of him. "The others are all going to be dealing with Angelique, and I don't think she has a lot of patience." She offered her hands. He stared up at her, and the strangeness in his eyes was gone - replaced with a quiet, thoughtful look.

"Kirsty," he finally said, "Did you mean it?" A lump in her throat, but Kirsty nodded.

"I did." Something changed - the thought in his gaze became resolution, and he took her hand, rising on one knee. The Lead Cenobite was still moving slowly, even as he nodded.

"...It is not common of Leviathan's children," he spoke slowly, "to speak so freely of our emotions. Such a show of sentiment was not becoming of my position." Kirsty's heart sank. He was still holding her hand - after a moment he lifted it to his face. "But know that I meant every word."

The kiss was so brief she almost missed it, but Kirsty smiled, swallowing a relieved sob.

"I'll say it, then" she said, "for both of us. I love you." A smile - a reserved smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"We should see to it that your sisters do not have to keep Angelique entertained." Her hand folded into his arm as they started walking, "She was a notoriously poor houseguest in the Labyrinth." They approached the door, and he suddenly stopped, brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

"I... memories." He shook his head, his voice wavering between human and Cenobite as he spoke. "Two timelines at once... you were flustered in the car..." He stopped and stared ahead, but didn't move, and Kirsty wanted to sink into the floor. "Kirsty, did we...?"

"...Elliot didn't know what happened, I'm guessing?"

"No. But we can discuss this later, before I think of it any further." Kirsty stifled a laugh despite herself, but his expression was grim, and she quickly silenced it. The two stepped forward to face the darkness.

* * *

 _I love you._

He wasn't allowed to say it. He wasn't _supposed_ to say it - Cenobites kept their hearts under lock and key, opened only in utmost privacy and only to those they trusted most. Even his own Gash - those he considered his truest companions - had never heard such sentiment from him.

There would be none of that now. The Lead Cenobite locked his heart in chains as he faced Angelique - a name bestowed to shame a fallen ruler, one who had come to crave too much. Chains and claws collided, the world bathed in white with the box's solving. Angelique, fallen Daughter of the Labyrinth, her true title lost to the ages and wiped from history by the Labyrinth's own hand.

It could have been him.

A chain latched into Terri. He tore it away with one of his own. He had to show his Gash who the true summoner was. He had to focus.

It could have been him.

He was thrown to the ground. He could hear ringing in his ears, the faint buzz of Leviathan. _Father, I am sorry._ He had failed to obey, to remember the lessons taught to him, the lesson embodied by the beast before him. The beast lunging for the innocents holding the box. He called for his chains, and his Gash answered. She was dragged into the light, and it was over.

It was _over._ He forced himself to his feet, the pain new and unwelcome but a signal that he was alive to feel it. They'd won.

Kirsty looked up at him, and the lock came undone.

* * *

"Wait." The walk out of the museum was slow, and the Prince had stopped at the door. Kirsty stood with him, watching the sunrise. She hesitated before looking up at him.

"Do we still need to talk about...?"

"Yes." His face betrayed nothing, and she swallowed. Kirsty was still riding the wave of euphoria from having survived the chaos of moments before, and she wasn't quite ready to come down. He looked at her, eyes unreadable.

"I must ask you to understand that if circumstances were not what they were, this would have transpired differently." Her heart sunk, and Kirsty nodded. She should have known it was a fluke. 'I would have used a proper bed, for example."

 _"What?"_ Kirsty sputtered, barely stopping herself from shouting it, and he smiled.

"Sorry, I thought that would have helped." That was Elliot talking, she decided, trying to lighten the mood after the brush with death. She looked up towards her sisters and Terri, who were laughing in the distance. "Kirsty, you do not need to challenge yourself over what happened. It was real." She looked back to him, and the surprise must have been obvious in her gaze. "Even if I was not complete, the memory is mine, and I do not regret it."

"O-Oh." She said, blinking, not sure what else to say. "Good. I-I'm glad."

"As am I." The Cenobite gently took the box from her hands, turning and twisting it from a white diamond to a black cube. "Kirsty, I do not know when we will see each other again. Know, however, that everything I said when I was Unbound and as Elliot - all of it was true." he handed the box back to her. "Even if it is not proper for me to say it now."

"I understand," she said, looking at the box, then looking up at him. "I love you, too." His eyes softened, and for a second looked almost blue.

"Farewell, Kirsty," he said, and leaned forward to brush his lips on her forehead. Kirsty waited until he pulled away to tilt her head up, her own lips brushing his. He looked down at he with a hint of surprise."

"Until we meet again," she said, and held the box up to bath him in white-blue light. The Lead Cenobite disappeared, and she tucked the box in her purse.

"Hey!" Kirsty looked over to where Terri was waving. "Is he your boyfriend?" Kirsty hesitated for a moment, before smiling to herself.

"Yeah, kinda!" Terri laughed, a warm laugh, and Joey looked at Tiffany in disbelief. Kirsty laughed too, and walked out of the museum towards them, knowing she'd have a lot of explaining to do. That one moment - that one taste of rapture - she'd keep to herself.

* * *

 _AND **DONE!** Glad to have this wrapped up! I've got a couple more ideas I'm itching to get to, but I didn't want to leave this story dangling before I jumped onto the next project. You can see them on my profile under "Upcoming Projects"; feel free to let me know which one seems the most interesting! Thanks again for reading, and be kind!_

 _\- Inky_


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